As a transplant to New York City, there’s so much I love about this city. This post is not about that stuff. This is about one thing I have come to hate.

Scaffolding.

It may be the price of progress, but often as I walk around the city, I’m forced to wonder where the sun is due to the never ending parade of scaffolding covering the sidewalks.

Yes, it’s there to protect my little pea brain from getting cracked open by falling debris, but as is often the case in NYC, the scaffolding is bigger and better than any where else. Unfortunately, it is also more prevalent than in any other city I have been in.

And let’s be honest, one has to wonder if it doing anything other than serving as another advertising platform.

With all the skyscrapers and towering buildings, one is naturally inclined to look up in awe at man’s architectural achievement (or folly) — the problem is that you can’t see any of it.

A secondary, yet equally annoying issue, is that the scaffolding makes the sidewalk a maze to navigate. Polls, uprights, cross beams and joists all working together to prevent a human from walking a straight line. Given the human congestion on a NYC street at lunch hour mixed with a large dose of tourists and you’ve got a bumbling, pushy mess.

Add in a leashed dog or two and you end up feeling stressed from what should otherwise be a relaxing walk.

While it may be a necessary evil, I want to see the sky. It’s one of the reasons I go outside. So for the next mayor, I ask, “less scaffolding please.”

I don’t know what happened last night, but it’s all over the streets this morning and it must have been a quite a party.

First I notice a person on the way to the subway. Most people have a cup of coffee from their preferred chain store or street cart. Many people include a pastry, bagel, donut or other breakfast item in the mix. This woman was having a can of Coke and a cigarette. Mmmm, good. Nothing says “hangover” louder than that double-bill of nicotine and caffeine. Breakfast of champions.

Secondly, I get off the subway and sure enough, there’s a guy puking his guts out. Not a bum, but a normal-on-his-way-to-the-office sort of guy. Luckily, I had missed the first pass and was only subjected to the afterglow. There’s nothing quite like the slap of partially digested food hitting the cold, wet pavement at 9:00am. Yum!

So beware, fellow travelers, there’s lots of hangovers going around.

Archie’s got a few bones to pick as well:

[NOTE: He did not approve the above pun.]

First of all, there are not enough dog-related issues on the ballot.

His two favorite slogans:

1. Less Leashes, More Bitches
2. Fixing is Breaking

And despite being born in Kentucky, he muttered something about shredding red state ballots and fouling the Mayor’s office.

I’m walking down the street this morning when I was confronted by a rat.

Now, this is not an unusual occurrence for a New Yorker, but this was special.

In a fantastic election day protest, a construction workers union had set up a 25 foot tall, orange and pink, inflatable rat. The menacing rat had a giant sign taped to his chest saying, “Workers Have Rights.”

The union was protesting the construction company on a variety of issues such as unfair pay, unlicensed workers and unsafe conditions.

What does this have to do with the election today?

The construction site is right next to a polling place.

I’m sure that many folks, such as myself, saw the giant “Workers Have Rights” rat outside a polling place and were glad they had voted.

I had no idea the rat referenced the construction site until I was standing under it’s menacing glare and read a much smaller sign detailing the union’s grievances.

I think it’s a great way to protest — giant, scary, inflatable animals in fluorescent colors.

So I’m patiently standing in line to vote as any good citizen should do — and luckily I’m early so there’s only one guy in front of me, when this guy freaks out and has a meltdown. Here’s basically what happened:

The Characters:
A conservative looking, middle aged man in a blue suit, perfect hair, Wall Street Journal under his arm, the whole upper-class, management kind of look.

The poor poll workers (and I can relate as a former poll worker) consist of two women: a middle-aged black women with glasses, dreads pulled back into a pony tail and neatly covered with a scarf; a senior women who was probably in her 80’s who was a little bit stooped over.

The Story:
So the guy comes up to the table and the younger of the woman says that no, he is not on the roll to vote. The older woman has an absentee ballot all ready for him so he can vote. He has obviously been to the table before and is pissed off.

When faced with the option of voting using an absentee ballot (a common occurence when someone is not listed on the roll of voters), he loses his mind and starts berrating the nice old lady.

“Why do they make it hard to vote!!??!!” he yells at her. She is holding the absentee ballot as a shield and trying to explain it to him while he yells this.

He thens storms behind me to the right side of the table to start filling it out. The younger woman tells him he can sit down at a table in the middle of the room to fill it out (versus hunching over the voter table).

He then starts yelling, “This is what they call Voter Scam!” repeatedly as he walks over to fill out his ballot.

My Conclusions:
Apparently, absentee ballots are part of a left-wing conspiracy. I’m wondering why in the hell he couldn’t manage to REGISTER to vote in the first place. I had no problem, My name was right there on the list.

Maybe he was too busy screwing over poor people and acting like a spoiled child to register. Maybe he’s the type of person who wants to be part of “the process” but doesn’t actually want to do anything. Maybe he was just scared because the Republican party could actually lose control of the Congress.

Anyway you cut it, bad behavior is bad behavior and I’m here to call him out — dude, you’re an uptight asshole and nobody deserves your shit.

New York City is incredible and one of the most amazing things is the amount of food one can find on the street. And I mean right down there on the sidewalk. It is for this reason, that I’m happy to present:

Archie’s Top Five Favorite Street Foods

1. Pork Spare Rib: Yep, actual pork spare ribs thrown on the ground. Yum!
2. Chicken Wing: Same deal as above, but spicy!
3. Pizza Crust: Who doesn’t love thin crust NYC pizza?
4. Fruit: Apple core, banana peel or orange rind, Archie loves ’em!
5. Baguette: He is French after all.

Everyone knows the stereotype (or reality) of a woman walking past a construction site and getting jeers, catcalls and whistles from the workers.

I’m starting to see a new weird thing happening at constructions sites.

Everytime Archie and I walk past one, the largest, dirtiest, sweatiest worker starts making kissy noises at Archie. And yes, I’m sure it’s directed at Archie.

It’s kind of a cross between baby talk and a “come here” call.

In his infinite wisdom, Archie completely ignores these approaches and focus on finding a nice spot to pee. He’s nothing if not aloof.

I, on the other hand, am slightly disturbed for various reasons.

Sure he’s cute, but what would account for this level of bizarre behavior? Does Archie tap into some underground well of softness that permeates the fat construction worker belly?

More research to follow.